That is it.”
Hud stared back at him in silence. Ashur had a quick temper and a chip on his shoulder the size of Iraq. Hud recognized a bit of himself in the boy. He’d been angry at the world as a kid, unable to control his emotions. Climbing had been his only outlet until he’d joined the military, where he’d learned to channel his aggressions.
Now Hud was adept at staying calm and focused, after years of practice. He’d worked hard to master his mind and body. The strategies he used to maintain equilibrium had kept him sane in captivity. It was ironic, he supposed. His mother had worried constantly about his combative nature, and his affinity for danger. She’d thought climbing would be his downfall. Instead it was his salvation. His troubled adolescence had been a training ground, honing him into an elite solider who could withstand extreme duress.
Hud moved around the boy and continued outside. Ashur wasn’t a serious threat, and he wasn’t responsible for Hud’s predicament. Layah was. She stood by the gate with three backpacks at her feet. Bulky layers of clothing disguised her figure and a pale brown hijab covered her hair. She might look unremarkable from behind. Straight on, her beautiful face shone like the desert sun.
He felt a stirring of desire and resented it.
“Good morning,” she said.
He nodded curtly. They were getting a late start, by his standards. Most climbing expeditions began before dawn. He picked up his pack, which was loaded with ropes and equipment. He’d examined every item yesterday. The sutures on his shoulder tugged as he balanced the weight.
“How are you feeling?”
“Do you care?”
She lifted her own pack with a frown. “I wish I could give you more time to rest, but it is important to begin our journey now, before the Da’esh come, or the ground thaws and the terrain becomes unstable.”
He glanced at the white-capped peaks in the distance. It was the middle of spring, so he understood her urgency. Snowmelt turned the ground into slippery slush and caused rock slides. They needed the weather to stay cool and clear, but there were no guarantees. At the summit, the temperature could dip to below freezing, with swirling snowstorms and zero visibility. “Where are the others?”
“We will meet them on the mountain.”
Ashur opened the gate for them. Two men stood outside, guarding the exit with Kalashnikovs. Hud recognized them as the men who’d carried him away from the rubble of the torture cell.
“This is Yusef and Aram,” she said.
“My executioners?”
“My cousins,” she corrected. “They will not harm you.”
Hud gave both men a quick examination. Layah’s cousins appeared comfortable with their weapons, but they were no match for him physically. He could disarm one and kill the other in the blink of an eye.
“You must stay with us,” she said, as if she could read his mind. “The Yazidi have taken a great risk by giving us refuge. They know you were a Da’esh prisoner, and they will not allow you to endanger them by getting recaptured.”
“So your men won’t shoot me, but the Yazidi will?”
“If you leave our group, yes. They will shoot you to protect their families.”
He adjusted the straps on his pack. She’d chosen to begin their journey at midmorning for a reason. She wanted him to be seen by the villagers, who would help her keep him in line. “How convenient.”
“You fault me for warning you?”
“No. I fault you for threatening me with violence while pretending you’re above it.”
Her cheeks flushed a dusky rose. “I pretend nothing.”
He studied her face, remembering her heated response to their bedroom tussle. She might not be a faker, but she wasn’t honest, either. And his body didn’t seem to care. If anything, his anger and resentment had stoked his desire. He felt outmaneuvered by her, and the caveman in him wanted to flip things around. He wanted to get back on top and pin her underneath him.
But that wasn’t going to happen, so he dropped the subject and started walking. Challenging her wouldn’t improve his situation. It would only make him want to crush his mouth over hers in retaliation. He told himself it was a normal reaction. Any man who’d been taken prisoner by a beautiful woman would think about doing her, and she’d encouraged him to kiss her. She’d given him signals. Of course he was going to fantasize about getting even. Or at least, getting off.
Layah trailed behind him, followed by Ashur and the two cousins. Hud continued down the dirt road, which couldn’t have been more than a mile long. He could see a well-worn path from the village into the mountains, used by goats and sheepherders. It would take a day or more to hike beyond the grazing hills.
After a few minutes, his muscles warmed up and his tension eased. It felt good to be outdoors again. It felt good to be alive. The air was cool and the land was green. He loved climbing. He’d rather die on the side of a mountain than in a dusty tomb. Forced labor wasn’t so bad, and the scenery was excellent.
He could almost hear his comrades’ mocking voices in his head: You’re mad about getting rescued and bossed around by a sexy woman? Dude, what is wrong with you? Did you lose your balls in that explosion?
Thinking about his team members gave Hud pause. Some of them might have died in that explosion—because of him. Because of his choices, his mistakes. He’d been so intent on catching the terrorist who’d killed their interpreter that he’d risked his own life, and the lives of his best friends. That didn’t sit well with him. He needed to stop lusting after Layah and concentrate on his main objective. He could still ditch her in the mountains. He felt strong, like he could hike forever.
As they started up the goat path, Layah fell into step beside him. “You are unhappy about our partnership.”
He arched a brow. “This isn’t a partnership.”
“I would like it to be.”
“I think what you’d like is for me to follow your orders with a smile.”
She gestured toward the summit. “Up there, you will be giving the orders.”
He glanced that direction, trying not to feel excited by the prospect. The lure of a dangerous challenge beckoned.
“The journey will be difficult, but it is the best way. Soon we will all be smiling in celebration of our success.” Her lips formed a tentative curve that was half peace offering, half propaganda.
“You don’t have to sell it to me, Doc. The threat of being shot by Yazidis already did the trick.”
“I wish for harmony between us, not strife.”
He squinted at her wording. “Did you learn English from a brochure?”
“No. I learned it in Baghdad.”
“Why do you cover your hair?”
She blinked in surprise. “What?”
“You
